"Dead before it for the present.I'll get you a light in a moment."But going forward I met Ransome bringing up the spare binnacle lamp.That man noticed everything, attended to everything, shed comfort around him as he moved.As he passed me he re-marked in a soothing tone that the stars were com-ing out.They were.The breeze was sweeping clear the sooty sky, breaking through the indolent silence of the sea.
The barrier of awful stillness which had encom-passed us for so many days as though we had been accursed, was broken.I felt that.I let myself fall on to the skylight seat.A faint white ridge of foam, thin, very thin, broke alongside.The first for ages--for ages.I could have cheered, if it hadn't been for the sense of guilt which clung to all my thoughts secretly.Ransome stood before me.
"What about the mate," I asked anxiously.
"Still unconscious?"
"Well, sir--it's funny," Ransome was evidently puzzled."He hasn't spoken a word, and his eyes are shut.But it looks to me more like sound sleep than anything else."I accepted this view as the least troublesome of any, or at any rate, least disturbing.Dead faint or deep slumber, Mr.Burns had to be left to him-self for the present.Ransome remarked sud-denly:
"I believe you want a coat, sir."
"I believe I do," I sighed out.
But I did not move.What I felt I wanted were new limbs.My arms and legs seemed utterly use-less, fairly worn out.They didn't even ache.But I stood up all the same to put on the coat when Ransome brought it up.And when he suggested that he had better now "take Gambril forward," Isaid:
"All right.I'll help you to get him down on the main deck."I found that I was quite able to help, too.We raised Gambril up between us.He tried to help himself along like a man but all the time he was in-quiring piteously:
"You won't let me go when we come to the lad-der? You won't let me go when we come to the ladder?"The breeze kept on freshening and blew true, true to a hair.At daylight by careful manipula-tion of the helm we got the foreyards to run square by themselves (the water keeping smooth) and then went about hauling the ropes tight.Of the four men I had with me at night, I could see now only two.I didn't inquire as to the others.They had given in.For a time only I hoped.
Our various tasks forward occupied us for hours, the two men with me moved so slow and had to rest so often.One of them remarked that "every blamed thing in the ship felt about a hundred times heavier than its proper weight." This was the only complaint uttered.I don't know what we should have done without Ransome.He worked with us, silent, too, with a little smile frozen on his lips.From time to time I murmured to him:
"Go steady"--"Take it easy, Ransome"--and re-ceived a quick glance in reply.
When we had done all we could do to make things safe, he disappeared into his galley.Some time afterward, going forward for a look round, Icaught sight of him through the open door.He sat upright on the locker in front of the stove, with his head leaning back against the bulkhead.His eyes were closed; his capable hands held open the front of his thin cotton shirt baring tragically his powerful chest, which heaved in painful and laboured gasps.He didn't hear me.
I retreated quietly and went straight on to the poop to relieve Frenchy, who by that time was be-ginning to look very sick.He gave me the course with great formality and tried to go off with a jaunty step, but reeled widely twice before getting out of my sight.
And then I remained all alone aft, steering my ship, which ran before the wind with a buoyant lift now and then, and even rolling a little.Presently Ransome appeared before me with a tray.The sight of food made me ravenous all at once.He took the wheel while I sat down of the after grating to eat my breakfast.
"This breeze seems to have done for our crowd,"he murmured."It just laid them low--all hands.""Yes," I said."I suppose you and I are the only two fit men in the ship.""Frenchy says there's still a jump left in him.Idon't know.It can't be much," continued Ran-some with his wistful smile.Good little man that.
But suppose, sir, that this wind flies round when we are close to the land--what are we going to do with her?""If the wind shifts round heavily after we close in with the land she will either run ashore or get dismasted or both.We won't be able to do any-thing with her.She's running away with us now.
All we can do is to steer her.She's a ship without a crew.""Yes.All laid low," repeated Ransome quietly.
"I do give them a look-in forward every now and then, but it's precious little I can do for them.""I, and the ship, and every one on board of her, are very much indebted to you, Ransome," I said warmly.
He made as though he had not heard me, and steered in silence till I was ready to relieve him.He surrendered the wheel, picked up the tray, and for a parting shot informed me that Mr.Burns was awake and seemed to have a mind to come up on deck.
"I don't know how to prevent him, sir.I can't very well stop down below all the time."It was clear that he couldn't.And sure enough Mr.Burns came on deck dragging himself painfully aft in his enormous overcoat.I beheld him with a natural dread.To have him around and raving about the wiles of a dead man while I had to steer a wildly rushing ship full of dying men was a rather dreadful prospect.
But his first remarks were quite sensible in mean-ing and tone.Apparently he had no recollection of the night scene.And if he had he didn't betray himself once.Neither did he talk very much.He sat on the skylight looking desperately ill at first, but that strong breeze, before which the last rem-nant of my crew had wilted down, seemed to blow a fresh stock of vigour into his frame with every gust.
One could almost see the process.
By way of sanity test I alluded on purpose to the late captain.I was delighted to find that Mr.
Burns did not display undue interest in the sub-ject.He ran over the old tale of that savage ruffian's iniquities with a certain vindictive gusto and then concluded unexpectedly:
